


Time Between Us

by madirayn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista!Bokuto, BoKuroo Week 2020, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou Angst, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou Fluff, But also, Comedian!Bokuto, LDR Bokuroo, M/M, Marketing!Kuroo, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, but he's adorable & that might just be a fact, i like to think they all somewhat exist in the same universe, idk what your hcs are for him, konoha is adorable btw, like- it's there if you squint, there's also a little bit of a crossover between this and my first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23542060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madirayn/pseuds/madirayn
Summary: Prompt: Sunsets/SunrisesIn which Kuroo is on a business trip in New York and Bokuto is stuck in Tokyo, craving the strong, grounding arms he misses being wrapped in.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	Time Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Bokuroo Week 2020 (4/1-4/7) ! Now listen. Bokuroo isn’t my traditional cup of tea, but I gotta admit. It’s an adorable ship.  
> My lovely friend, Pib, agreed to draw me Iwaoi if I wrote her Bokuroo,, and I mean, how could I pass that up? So, here we are! I hope you enjoy reading this angsty fluff as much as I loved writing it!

13 hours.

The time difference between New York City and Tokyo. 13 menacing, venomous, and bitter hours. Time was too often the separation between two souls. It was no exception with Bokuto and Kuroo.

First of all, it took all of middle school for Bokuto to even admit that he might like guys. Sure, it was right in front of him. The unmistakable feeling of butterflies in his stomach when kissing a guy as a dare in 8th grade, the way he would flirt with a girl and kind of hoped her boyfriend would get jealous, the glances in the locker room that lasted a little too long for them to be called glances; it was a surprise that Bokuto even danced around the idea that he  _ could  _ like a girl.

Then, another three years went by before he told his best friend that he might like him.

All it took was Kuroo’s block in the first volleyball match that Bokuto had the pleasure of viewing. Though opposed at first to the idea of having to share his court space with a team he had never heard of before, Kuroo’s play was the be-all-end-all to his pride. And his heart.

Late-night phone calls, conveniently swapped jackets, and too-long hugs were the best part of what anyone would consider the worst three years of their lives. But Kuroo was there through all the pain and misfortune. If there was anyone Bokuto knew he could count on, it was Kuroo, always a phone call away.

Kuroo was there with milkshakes from the local diner when Bokuto lost a volleyball game. He was there with tickets to their favorite bands’ concerts when Bokuto needed to get away from his parents’ incessant fighting. He was there with his car and a smile, ready to take Bokuto to their favorite barbeque place when he had mentioned that he failed the test he thought he did well on.

It was only a matter of time before he realized he was falling. And he was falling hard.

The day after they both graduated was when he finally told Kuroo, as they were walking over the bridge of the pond next to the garden they had visited together before, and Bokuto whispered to Akaashi to grab Kenma and go on without them.

The sun was sinking behind the skyline, casting everything in a warm, golden light. The awkward movement of Bokuto’s hand finding its place behind his neck, the stuttering of words and repetition of unnecessary disclaimers, the smile that was surely a window into the convoluted feelings of longing and agony and warmth that he could only deduce to be unwavering attraction. Or something.

It took a lot to make Fukurodani’s boisterous ace speechless, but Kuroo never hesitated to test the impossible. Despite the unhelpful– and extremely annoying– speechlessness, Bokuto managed to utter at least one coherent sentence from the ruins of those that were a little less successful.

“I like you. I mean- I’ve liked you. For…For a while now.”

A kiss that stole the air between them and the words from Bokuto’s mouth told him that the feeling was mutual, and Bokuto wondered why he didn’t say anything sooner.

Still, even after three years and a lot of confusing feelings, time was never on Bokuto and Kuroo’s side. Not that they didn’t have any. But the time they did have never felt like enough.

Time was especially tested during college when they had to go to different schools, but they made time for each other on the weekends. By some miracle, it worked out and they managed to get a place together after graduation, Kuroo starting at a marketing agency and Bokuto making drinks at the coffee shop next door with dreams of being a comedian close to his heart. Unwavering support and love were what kept them going, even through the tough days.

One of which was Kuroo’s first business trip.

Time was definitely not on their side for this one.

Kuroo leaving for New York City and Bokuto being stuck in Tokyo was not exactly how he wanted to spend the next five days, but he knew it was important to Kuroo and his company, and he knew that even he couldn’t prevent it.

Kuroo left with the promise that they would call every night after the first (so he could sleep off the time zone difference) for the next five, excruciatingly long days that he would be gone.

The first day was spent pacing the house, uncomfortable under blankets without the strong arms that grounded him, wrapped tightly around his own. He couldn’t look at the movies they put aside to watch later or at the flowers in the vase that Kuroo had placed on the dinner table after being gifted them by Daichi, who was trying to dish out the copious amount of flowers littering his house, which were byproducts of Suga’s latest obsession: gardening.

It was even rough at the coffee shop, where his hands itched to make Kuroo his regular order around the time that he would saunter in, yell all the way across the cafe to his boyfriend, and demand a coffee and a kiss, incessantly flirting over the counter.

To the customers that weren’t regulars, it was quite a scene.

Without the boisterous interruption, he felt like a shell of himself as he sulked and sighed.

The next day was similar, but Bokuto was fueled with the new anticipation of Kuroo’s call. It seemed as though the day couldn’t have gone quicker, but Bokuto flew through it with wind under his heels.

Even Konoha, who normally paid no attention to his co-worker’s escapades, was curious as to what was different with Bokuto that day.

“What is it?” He asked, busying himself by sweeping the floor.

“Hmm?” Bokuto hummed, mindlessly fiddling with the espresso maker. He was slumped over the counter, kneeling on the ground, but he either didn’t know he was blocking everyone’s path or he didn’t care. Luckily, they were closing up shop, and he and Konoha lost the race out the door to avoid clean up, though the losses might have been deliberate on both ends.

“What’s going on with you?” Konoha paused, wondering if bringing up that boisterous boyfriend of his was a good idea. He decided that if they broke up, it probably would have been worse than a few spilled coffees throughout the day. “And where’s that boyfriend of yours?”

Bokuto kept his eyes focused on the coffee maker, but stiffened at the mention of Kuroo.

“Oh, it’s just–”

A big sigh enveloped Bokuto’s body and he loosened, shaking his head and turning his body, so he sat on the ground next to where Konoha stood.

It was an interesting sight; the generally confident man, legs curled up to his chest and head resting on his knees. He looked smaller.

Another sigh racked Bokuto’s body as he closed his eyes.

“Konoha,” he started, startling the man out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, Bokuto?”

“Kuroo left for a business trip!” He wailed suddenly, a sob threatening to form, visible by his clenched knuckles and red face.

Konoha knew Bokuto was dramatic, but not to this extent.

“Oh.” He uttered, unsure of what to do with himself, but kneeling next to Bokuto.

Then, Bokuto’s sob broke and panic consumed Konoha.

“Oh! Oh no. Bokuto, c’mere.”

Bokuto wriggled into Konoha’s arms, thankful for the human contact, but longing for someone else’s hold all the same. Konoha awkwardly patted Bokuto’s spiky hair, trying to ignore the stiffness of it, likely the victim of hours spent applying hairspray in the morning. This wasn’t exactly how Konoha wanted to spend his Tuesday night, but he would consider Bokuto a friend, and he aimed never to let his friends down.

They stayed like that until Bokuto shifted slightly.

“Hey, Konoha.”

He hummed, hand still tangled in Bokuto’s messy hair, a little preoccupied in debating how he was going to get it out.

“What time is it?”

“Um, it was 6:30 the last time I checked the clock, so maybe…7?”

“Oh seven,” Bokuto nodded, “wait… _ seven? _ ”

Konoha hummed, now actively trying to get his hand out of Bokuto’s hair, to no avail.

“Shit! I’ve gotta go!” Bokuto stood up, somehow successfully removing his hair from Konoha’s grasp, leaving a slightly bewildered Konoha in his wake as he grabbed his bag and rushed toward the door.

“Thanks a bunch, man!” He called before shutting the door and tossing Konoha the keys to close up shop.

He stood in the newfound silence, still wearing the look of a deer in headlights until he realized,

_ Shit. _

_ I have to clean up by myself now. _

* * *

Bokuto rushed through the door, tossing his bag to the side and his phone on the bed. He wasn’t going to miss this chance to talk to his love for the world. Crashing onto the bed after his phone, he curled up under the covers in anticipation. He didn’t even bother turning on a light, as he grabbed the phone and pulled it to his chest.

Kuroo not calling yet gave him time to wander in his thoughts a little,

_ Today was  _ such _ a long day. _

_ And I’ll finally be able to talk to Kuroo! _

_ And I feel warm. _

_ And the pillows are awfully soft. _

_ And I’m exhausted. _

_ …I’ll just shut my eyes for a quick second. I’ll be able to hear Kuroo’s call anyway. That stupid ringtone he installed with the cat. _

_ What was it called? _

_ Neon cat? _

_ Nyan cat? _

Were his last thoughts before he drifted to sleep with the phone clutched to his chest and Kuroo on his mind.

The next morning came quicker than he thought.

_ Shit. I fell asleep. _

Bokuto tried to force his eyes open and was bothered by the loud sunlight– _ loud? Could sunlight be loud? _ – seeping through the blinds which covered the tall windows in their room. He swatted around until he found his phone and managed to swipe over a notification that Kuroo had left a voicemail.

Sighing, he pressed play.

“Hey, hon, it’s me. I guess I didn’t manage to catch you before you fell asleep, but there’s always tomorrow, right? Anyway, today was good!”

The voice on the other line launched into a retelling of his day, and Bokuto left it on as he groggily sat up, one hand holding his phone, the other rubbing an eye. Of course, Kuroo’s story didn’t cease all throughout Bokuto’s morning routine.

He brushed his teeth to an account about Kuroo’s higher-up in the U.S. and how he reminded him of their childhood friend, Oikawa. He made breakfast to the description of Kuroo’s hotel room and how everything, the beds, the food, the people, were all bigger in America. He got dressed to Kuroo’s recount of his airport experience, and how Boss Oikawa-not-Oikawa insisted they visit the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty and oh! Maybe even a visit to Central Park before offering to the sleepy employees to show them to their hotel so they could rest up for a day of work the next day.

Bokuto treasured every second of the voicemail, and smiled throughout the whole thing, finding himself itching to pitch in words when Kuroo’s storytelling lulled. After shooting him a quick “sorry” text and promising to do better that day, he headed off to work.

It was as if the universe was not on their side for that day either, Bokuto thought, as he received an echoing “sorry” text that night, explaining that Kuroo had to work early that morning and couldn’t talk until later in the night– or the next morning for Bokuto.

Bokuto noticed a pattern as the fourth night passed, with no call from Kuroo and waking up to another apologetic text the next morning saying that he had slept through his alarms, and really could not talk until that night.

Bokuto was upset, sure, but when had timing ever been on their side anyway?

He tossed his phone to the side, trying to ignore the burning in the back of his eyes as he sat up, groggily.

Unlike their failed attempts at contact, work proceeded without a hitch, and the day was pretty successful– albeit long, slow, and dreary without Kuroo. Konoha had kept a watchful eye on him throughout the week, though Bokuto was concealing the hurt pretty well. It was obvious something was wrong, but the news had spread throughout the coffee shop of Bokuto’s situation, so everyone agreed to give him a little space and allow a mistake or two until they saw a certain flirtatious bedhead reappear in the shop again.

Before he knew it, Bokuto ended up back at home, dragging his feet all the way back. He decided to make peace with the limited contact after receiving this morning’s apology text. It was alright; Kuroo was coming back the next day anyway.

He kicked his shoes off and heated up dinner, leftover mackerel pike. Kuroo’s favorite.

Tossing his phone on the coffee table, he slumped on the couch, plate still warm in his hand. Bokuto turned on the TV, background noise to his pity party, as he poked at the mackerel with a fork.

Then his phone rang.

Bokuto sighed, turning his attention back to the TV. Who could be calling him now?

_ Wait. _

Not even checking the caller ID, he immediately picked up his phone and pressed it to his ear.

“Hello?” He asked, through a mouthful of mackerel.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a weak voice answered back. He knew that voice. He got to wake up to that normally gruff, slightly hoarse, always handsome voice every morning.

“K-Kuroo!” Bokuto sprang to his feet. On the first day, he had prepared a million different things to say and ask, but everything went out the window when he heard the voice he loved so much.

“Yeah…hey listen, I’m sorry about–”

“Shut up.”

“Haah?”

“You heard me, you insufferable cat.”

“Wha–?”

“It was both of our faults so…”

Bokuto heard Kuroo hum on the other line.

“You’re right.”

“Like always!”

“Like never!”

“Kuroo, guess what I’m eating right now?” Bokuto paused for effect, but not quite for an interjection, and he knew Kuroo knew what he was trying to do too. “Your leftover mackerel.”

“M-my leftover mackerel?  _ Bokuto!  _ I’m kicking your ass when I get home.”

“Puh-lease! I’ve been missing your ass-kicking.”

“Don’t make this weird!”

“You need to understand that it’s always going to be weird with me.”

“Good!”

Bokuto burst out laughing, clutching his sides as he rolled on the coach. The mackerel pike was long forgotten, getting cold on the coffee table. He was sure he was going to get hell from Kuroo for that.

On the other line, he could hear a similar laugh, which only served to fuel his own relentless laughter. Bokuto found himself slipping into the happiness and warmth it enveloped him in. Kuroo’s laugh was an acquired taste, annoying from a distance, but revealing unmistakable and true hilarity. It was Bokuto’s favorite laugh, quite possibly of anyone’s in the entire world.

He knew even 13 hours away, this was his Kuroo and no one could ever take that from him.

They settled into a pause, less awkward and more of a content calm. The sound of true happiness, bouncing off the signal from Japan to America. They stayed that way, smiles surely plastered on both of their faces until Kuroo spoke,

“Hey, Bokuto… the sun is rising.”

Bokuto hummed. “The sun is setting here.”

“This is why you were so eager to call at 7:30?”

“I do my research.”

“Hmm. I can’t believe I got up at 6:30 am for you. God. I’m seriously kicking your ass when I get home.”

Bokuto smiled and he was sure Kuroo was on the other end, a foolish smile on his face despite his words.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s a wrap, boys!  
>   
> Thank you for making it this far! I’m so glad you decided to give my angsty lil Bokuroo one-shot a read. Oh man, I did not intend on making it this long or this angsty. I sat down, wrote the beginning and the end, and couldn’t quite figure out how to connect point A and point B. For some reason, I decided to take the scenic route…  
>   
> Oh and let me mention. This is for Bokuroo Week 2020, and um… it’s a little late. For me, it’s like 4 hours late, but it’s definitely my fault for starting the fic at 11pm on the last day. Uh, I hope I still did this adorable ship justice!  
> If you’re interested, [these](https://youtu.be/JTXmM6w5-Xc) [are the](https://youtu.be/h_m-BjrxmgI) [songs](https://youtu.be/nkqVm5aiC28) that remind me the most of that whole LDR, “I miss you” dynamic I was striving for, let me know if you give them a listen!  
>   
> Kudos & comments always appreciated!  
>   
> Talk to me here or on my tumblr, [Madireyn](https://madireyn.tumblr.com/). <3


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